


Chocobros OT4 Week Drabbles

by wickedorin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Polyamory, and one chapter of AU-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedorin/pseuds/wickedorin
Summary: A random assortment of drabble-y goodness from the first Chocobros OT4 Week on Tumblr.  ...Hopefully edited properly this time.





	1. The Real Diner Experience

**Author's Note:**

> First dates aren’t all fireworks, you know. Sometimes you don’t even know it’s a first date.

It was an accident.  At first.  Kind of.  Looked back upon with realizations and fondness, but not something any of them were aware of at the time.

Noctis had called and suggested meeting up at the diner a little off the beaten path of any main streets for a late lunch/early dinner sort of thing, well within walking distance for him even on “one of those days”.  Prompto was already stressed and tired from studying, having mostly lost track of what day it was over the long weekend, accepting the invitation immediately because diner food solved everything for very short periods of time.  He totally needed to cling on to that very period of time with every ounce of strength and hope he had left in him.  And also maybe a grilled cheese or five.  Okay, four.  He was sure he could allow himself four.  Or maybe a burger.

They hadn’t even had the chance to look at their menus before Ignis strolled in the door, looking both enormously out of place and completely unaffected by his out-of-place-ness.  Noctis had questioned why he was there, getting a lightly judgmental look before Ignis slid into the booth next to the prince.  He ordered coffee even before the waitress fully acknowledged his presence.  Ebony, of course.  Noctis did convince him to get some “actual food”, but he took one extended look at the menu (every page, back and front) and ultimately got something with grilled chicken and steamed broccoli, which immediately lead to a discussion about the “real diner experience” being missed out on.  As per usual, Ignis did not budge from his choice, but did rather suspiciously type something on his phone before secreting the device away.

Gladio showed up about five minutes later, as they should have known he would, announcing his presence with a tap on the glass and a stern look which startled Prompto.  At least, until Noctis had rolled his eyes, then the Shield-to-be revealed a small but victorious grin before entering.  Inviting himself to sit beside Prompto, he didn’t hesitate before ordering a double cheese burger, and ultimately that was what the rest of their booth went with (Prompto ordering the version with jalapenos and pepper jack cheese, while Noct specifically requested no vegetables despite Ignis’ sigh).

It most certainly wasn’t set up like any date any of them had ever known; they’d all just shown up for the prince, either by invitation or by assumed duty.  There was an odd “rightness” to the way the rest of the diner seemed to disappear, however, whatever tension and stiffness which had been in Noctis’ shoulders when the other two showed up utterly falling away after Ignis had chosen to stick to somewhat mundane subjects, and Gladio himself to ridiculously boring ones in regards to his “not romance novels”, which even Specs ever so lightly scoffed about even if he continued to deny it.  All of that got Prompto to laugh even though he tried to hold himself back, and that in itself got Noctis to loosen up more and chuckle a little, all of them momentarily shedding duty and expectation the moment the four of them got to talking about waiting for the next update to King’s Knight and the hopes for new weapons.

It probably should have been awkward, if not intimidating.   Noctis probably should have minded that they were being chaperoned or whatever.   But it was… it was really…

“This is kinda nice.”  Prompto admitted, almost too quietly to hear himself.  It was a little embarrassing to admit out loud for whatever reason.  For probably a lot of reasons and he wasn’t sure which ones he was just imagining.  Yeah, he kinda wished he was sitting next to Noctis instead, but–

When he felt the prince’s foot brush against his pant leg, that secretive little quirk of a smile on Noctis’ lips, it was all okay.

“Bet a skinny kid like you can’t eat a whole burger anyway.”   Gladio teased, prodding Prompto surprisingly gently in the side.

The blond squeaked indignantly and swatted at that hand.  "Not everyone’s _made of mountain_ and needing tons of fuel like _you_ are.“

” _I’m_ the one using up ‘tons of fuel’.“  Noctis didn’t quite protest.

"Yeah, because you cheat during spars with all that warping.”  Gladiolus didn’t miss his opportunity to respond, getting a huff and “Whatever” from the prince.

What Ignis did not say was that it took an enormous amount of calories to keep up with all of his official duties, let alone the others he’d taken on, but it was implied enough in the silence broken mercifully by their waitress returning with food to a chorus of thanks and praise for how everything looked and smelled.  Along with a request for a coffee refill.

And it was good.  Classic diner fare; maybe not much to look at, but the portions were plentiful and the food was delicious.  Even if Noctis did have to remove pickles stuck to the top of his bun.

That “real diner experience”, it turned out, wasn’t missed by Ignis after all.  His broccoli and chicken rather suspiciously came with a side of chili cheese fries.  Instead of giving in to the grins of those around him, he ate both by himself, thank you very much.


	2. Just for Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of… intended to go one direction and it flowed where it wished regardless. Bedroom eyes? Somehow didn’t manage to get that far; but there are a lot of looks which convey different, if similarly powerful things. Way to follow a prompt, I know. Let’s say the bedroom eyes happen after okay.

The water warmed from the sun over the course of the day was just about perfect as the gold-red light of sunset lit the lake, Noctis and Prompto returned to camp with towels wrapped around them, relatively clean and refreshed.  Ignis and Gladiolus took their turn after, the latter only leaving instructions enough to stir the simmering stew if they hadn’t returned within ten minutes, to which the gunner saluted with enthusiasm.

The prince simply rolled his eyes and finished drying off before throwing some pants on, looking forward to a hotel with proper laundry service.  "Hey Prompto.  You ever think you’ll put a book together?“

"A book?”  The blond, it seemed, was more than perfectly fine to continue drying while wearing only bright yellow chocobo boxers.  "Like a photo book?“

"Yeah.”  Grinning, Noctis sat down in one of the folding chairs and considered his friend.  "It’d be kind of nice, wouldn’t it?  The landscapes and the animals and everything.“

"And us?”  Prompto grinned back brightly, pulling up a camp chair next to the prince and bringing his camera along; still only in boxers.

Rolling his eyes again, albeit more subtly, Noctis leaned back in his own chair and watched the sky slowly change colors above them.  "Maybe.   I want to–  I’d like to show a few people.  Or maybe another book, I guess.  A bunch of awesome pictures of us and then some casual shots?  Yeah, folks might eat that up.“

There was an overly loud snort from Prompto at the wording, even if the corners of his lips pulled down every so slightly as he scrolled between pictures.  They were good, no doubt, and the subject matter was more than appreciated, but…  "Maybe we shouldn’t, uh.  Rush to show most of these to other people.  Not all at once.”

Noctis blinked and looked over, surprised.  "Really?  Why’s that?“

Prompto gave Noct a little look before angling himself so that they could both better see the camera, slowly scrolling through multiple shots without a word.  First came the two of them, Prompto’s arm slung over the prince’s shoulders, and they happened to be looking at each other rather than the camera.  There was nothing but fondness in their eyes, a purely soft kind of playful warmth.

Then came the image of Ignis and Gladio, standing back to back, both with their arms crossed.  It was a dumb pose, sure, but the smiles gave them away; the Shield’s could be seen from the side, showing a flash of teeth with a bright but relaxed grin.  Ignis was almost looking at the camera, his own expression bright and natural, appearing to be just on the edge of laughter.  The line of their shoulders was without an ounce of tension, pressed up against one another, perfectly familiar with the touch.

Next up was Gladio and Prompto, making Noct snort.  He remembered that, when his bodyguard had simply taken hold of the blond around the waist and lifted him effortlessly into the air.  It looked like Prompto was going to have a panic attack until he realized who was holding him; and then walking along with him just like that, lifted into the air, Gladio encouraging him to reach for some fruit for one of Ignis’ recipes.  When the gunner had started laughing more than protesting, Noctis grabbed the camera, not wanting the moment to fade away.

The picture after showed a rare and quiet moment between Noctis and Gladiolus, something Prompto hadn’t even intended to capture.  He’d been looking through the viewfinder at the rising moon over their heads, only accidentally spotting a gentle hand placed on the prince’s shoulder.  It was right when they made eye contact that the gunner honestly accidentally took the shot, but he neither man had asked him to delete it.  If anything, both of them seemed to look upon the photo fondly when he showed them at the campfire that night.

Noctis recognized the next photo as well, Ignis and Prompto doing some simple vegetable chopping.  That hadn’t been what got him to capture the moment, however; it was the casually warm smiles they gave each other, making fleeting eye contact.  Iggy was teaching him how to make that curry he liked so much; something warm and familiar and appreciated after a long day of fighting in the cool rain, and the blond was a willing student.

Prompto tapped the arrow button to continue, smiling to himself at the shot of Ignis and Noct staring up at the sky.  The adviser was pointing out stars, and the prince was recounting the tales that he remembered from childhood about how the constellations came to be.  It wasn’t a particularly private moment, Prompto remembering Gladio elbowing him gently and encouraging him to capture a picture of it, but something about it had felt so… comforting.

The next one he showed, though… since the moment he’d taken it, looking at the image took the blond’s breath away.  It was just Noctis.   Alone, half-sitting on the hood of the Regalia, arms crossed and looking at him.  At the camera, at them, the three of them; Gladio had been standing to Prompto’s right, Iggy to his left.  The way Noctis looked at them… worn and sad and tired, but like they represented some kind of hope.  Light.  Like they were his sunrise.

The last shot was all four of them, standing close together while a catoblepas meandered around in the distance, Gladio’s hands and arms managing to encompass the rest of their shoulders as they all grinned at the camera, Ignis included.  It wasn’t as much their expressions as it was their clear ease at standing together, bodies all turned slightly inward toward one another, touches easy and appreciated.

"Oh.”  Noctis finally commented.

“Yeah.”  Prompto responded, but he was smiling at the screen even as he powered the camera down.  "Some of this, I think–“

"Is just for us.”  Ignis filled in from behind him, wrapped only too perfectly in a towel; and stirring the pot on the way by, even before thinking of clothes.

“Plus, we wouldn’t want to make anyone jealous.”  Gladiolus teased, his own towel wrapped around his waist loosely.  Much too loosely as he drew near enough to give a light tussle to the blond’s hair.   “Don’t even think about it, kid.  Got an early start tomorrow.”

“I would never!”  Prompto lied through his teeth, laughing with the light smack to his shoulder before the bodyguard walked past.  Ignis was at his heels, but not before the advisor lightly slid his fingers along their prince’s palm, a subtle but familiar touch.

Snorting lightly, Noctis considered the matter for another moment before nodding to himself, then leaned over a little closer to Prompto.  "Yeah.   Just for us.“


	3. It’s a Good Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well. I lasted longer at not-angst than anyone thought, right? It is a good dream, I promise.

It’s a good dream.

He wakes up with tears trailing down his cheeks, getting a concerned look from Ignis, but he assures in a cracking voice, “It was… such a good dream.”

Ignis doesn’t look like he quite believes, but he doesn’t press.  He allows Noctis to lay there as long as he likes to gather himself while breakfast is made.

The images continue to play in the back of his mind, and he can see it all so clearly when he closes his eyes.  In the dream, Noctis is king.  Standing strong and proud as he remembers his father used to, with Luna at his side; but they’re not married.  Were never forced.  She has the right to choose for herself, to live her own life along with being the Oracle.  She chooses to stand beside the King of Lucis, as he chooses to stand by her side, honoring their childhood promise to one another.

Besides, he loves Luna dearly, and she loves him, but they never _knew_ each other in that way.  Luna’s had her eyes on a Glaive or three, besides, and it’s a different kind of love.  A different kind of need and want and giving to one another than anything they had for each other, though no more powerful.  Nor less.  Noctis teases her about royalty being selfish and she laughs, every time.

Because he knows, deeply and dearly: he’s selfish, too.  With his three loves, with the three men who mean the most to him in the entire world, those he would never surrender to any situation or ideal.  They each have their own rooms, their own individual places, but there is a reason that the king’s bed is the largest of all.  
  
Beside him always are his three; his private, personal kingdom.  Ignis is his trusted adviser out of personal duty and desire, as he had been even before the official title of Adviser to the King of Lucis.  Gladiolus continues his family tradition of being Shield of the King of Lucis, not because of the duty of his blood but because of the call of his heart.  Prompto is the _Royal_ Photographer, a good and proper title, and while the public might attempt to think less of him for that, he remains at their center.  He’s the one who captures the private moments, helps everyone decide which shots the press gets and which they keep for themselves.  He documents private moments and proud history.

And yet, despite the titles, after some years of pulling Eos back together again, they collectively decide to end the reign of kings.  Noctis wants to do right by his father, by all the kings; but the only way to do that properly, he feels, is to change along with the rest of the world.  They no longer need sacrificial kings.  No more princes watching their fathers drained of life only to take on the mantle themselves when the former king wastes to nothing.  The magic handed to them should be returned, and the magic which comes naturally should be free.  The people themselves should have more say over who rules them and how.

In his dreams, the Gods agree, and return to slumber.  There is no divine curse or expectation.  The ring does not exist.  Borders between nations are arbitrary, the differences beyond and between them not hated or feared.

In his dreams, they are happy to live in prosperity and peace, aiding others in doing the same.  There is no Scourge.  There are no mysterious figures.  There is what they wish and what they want, finally blooming into achievement.

Opening his eyes to the present waking world again, he can almost hear the chirps of a small Astral, the one he knows well.  Trying to give him hope.

And though Noctis wakes up in tears, chest clenched tightly around his heart, it’s good.


	4. He’s Not Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here goes nothing. For some time, some of Gladio’s more negative knee-jerk reactions/behaviors in times of stress have been hitting a lot of obvious red flags for me. So I decided to explore that a little on account of his behavior at the Assassin’s Festival. This also accidentally became the Gladio and Iggy Show, oops. I don’t know, this has potential to be revisited at some point, because I was trying to keep this a short drabble and I mostly succeeded, alright. (While I wouldn’t fully stamp this with “canon compliant”… I wouldn’t say it’s not, either. People backslide sometimes, you know? Revert to past behaviors. There’s a long conversation to be had, but not in author’s notes.)

It really was a joke at first.  Prompto being “disgusted” by Gladio’s behavior; some days the guy just got horny and flirty and liked to be around women, no big deal.  He got it, and it was all within the understanding of their relationship.

Until it… wasn’t, anymore.  Gladiolus started going a little beyond just flirting, and openly.  He’d started leaning in closer, touching, letting himself be touched in ways that weren’t subtle.  Drawing in his last “conquest” so that they rested right against one another, their hands started becoming more adventurous.

Prompto managed to joke.  Hell, Noctis managed to joke with him, but after a little while of seeing it over and over again, the humor was lost.  Gladio was just…

“Is he being an almost literal dick on purpose?"  The prince finally voiced from a reasonable distance, watching as his bodyguard leaned practically right up against a barely-dressed young lady who was only egging him on with giggles and low conversation, looking every bit like he was getting ready to pin her to the wall next to them.

The response came from behind the prince and the photographer, the adviser’s voice carefully hushed.  "I don’t believe it’s… on purpose."  Despite the fact that Ignis had been off doing other things for a time, he hadn’t missed it either.

"Hey, Iggy."  Prompto greeted, voice light but tighter than usual.  "I was kinda wondering if one of us should ask him to tone it down or not…”

“Or _stop_."  Noctis suggested quietly.

Adjusting his glasses, Ignis considered the matter; then saw another "skirting” of their pre-established relationship rules when Gladio’s hand ever so lightly ran over the young lady’s hip.  He supposed he ought to be upset–and he certainly _was_ , to a point–though he believed he might have been starting to recognize what he saw, in part.  At least, he thought as much.  They’d all been so incredibly stressed of late, and Gladiolus had actually managed to show that least of all of them until he reached a breaking point.  It wasn’t nearly so dramatic then, however…  “I’ll speak with him.  Go keep a look-out for the empire if you would, gentlemen.”

“If you’re going to yell at him, Specs…"  The prince trailed off, a little concerned even if he didn’t quite know how to express it.

"I’ll do no such thing, I assure you."  Ignis responded with a curt nod.  When both Prompto and Noctis nodded in return, he took that as permission and excused himself to approach head-on.

Perhaps the most "dangerous” part of the entire situation was the interruption.  Luckily for the adviser, he didn’t mind making a tiny nuisance of himself if it allowed him to bypass wasted time and smalltalk to get to the heart of a matter.  “Gladio.  A word, please?  A rather long one, I’m afraid."  He smiled in a way that he hoped looked both honest and apologetic to the young woman.

The Shield’s own smile was decidely less than honest in Ignis’ direction, but it softened as he leaned in to assure his unnamed companion, "Find you when I’m done, alright?"  There was a laugh and a wave as they watched her walk off to join in more festivities, the bodyguard’s voice dropping into something flat and serious.  "Yeah?”

How to go about the conversation.  Ignis had been trying to figure out the best approach, the easiest angle to understand and deal with, to solve things–but, in the end, blunt honesty and almost too-harsh directness seemed the best path.  Moving in a little closer, he declared firmly, “He’s not here.”

Gladiolus blinked with absolute confusion.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

Alright, so he was not as forthright as he could have been, though the fact remained that he wished to drive the point home before anything else: “He’s not here.”

That totally didn’t help with the whole confusion thing, Gladiolus tilting his head and wondering if the heat may have gotten to the brunet.  “Who?”

Well, there it was.  The adviser’s opportunity.  He was prepared to take a hit if he did indeed push too far forward, cross a boundary that he’d never quite been ready to cross before.  “Your father.  Your mentor.  Whoever it is you’re trying to prove yourself to right now.”

Suddenly the Shield felt equal parts attacked and sick to his stomach.  What did Ignis know?  What had he heard?  Was it obvious, somehow?  It was buried so deep, and he’d tried to keep it that way…  “What–”

Ignis was not going to give the other man the opportunity to recover enough to revert directly to anger and risk Gladiolus shutting him out entirely, or possibly making a great many irreversible mistakes.  “You’re not flirting.  You know we’ve no problem with that.  Heavily hitting on every woman you come across while making extended physical contact in potentially intimate areas, however–”

It was the almost flat-toned seeming detachment that caught the Shield’s attention more than anything, that alerted him to Ignis not just being upset, but trying very hard not to show it.  “Hey now, I–”

“You are a healthy bisexual man."  Ignis enunciated clearly, privately impressed when Gladio’s mouth snapped shut.  "In a relationship with three other men.  It’s understandable that, physically, we may not cover all of your sexual needs.”

Gladiolus paled slightly.  Was that what Ignis thought?  “Shit, it’s not tha–”

Much as he disliked continuously cutting his friend’s responses off, it seemed necessary to get his point across, to _open_ conversation in the first place.  “You don’t have to perform hyper-masculinity for us.  Or anyone else."  And that was it, the crux of it all, firmly spoken.  Things Ignis had once suspected, which Gladio had demonstrated in times of stress and uncertainty since they left Insomnia.  They’d never talked about it directly, and by the time certain signs were beginning to line up and point to something solid, there was simply no space in which to ask or explore the subject.  He honestly didn’t know who was to blame; Clarus, for all his distance born out of service to the crown and the need he felt to send his son to a boarding school for his training and education while keeping his daughter close, or a particular instructor.  Perhaps _all_ of his instructors.  Ignis’ education and training had been a very different thing, and considering the possibilities too much for too long would only drive him to impatience and anger, which would be misinterpreted.  The adviser drew a slow breath instead, getting to the point before the Shield’s own stunned expression turned to something negative.  "You don’t have to prove yourself to be someone else’s definition of a man.  Ever.”

Gladio let out a shaky breath.  He wanted to be angry and argue, counter-accuse.  That was his first reaction, the knee-jerk instinctive one.  The “how dare you”, the “I am not”; coming more out of protecting himself than any place of truth.  He really didn’t _deal_ with personal truth, for the most part; there was no chance to, no time, he’d never been shown how to do so.  Running a hand through his hair and turning away, he responded, “Just working off some steam."  A weak defense.  Shameful.

"Of that I have no doubt."  Ignis allowed softly.  "But that’s not all you were doing.”

“How the hell would you know?"  In spite of the harsh words, Gladio’s tone was mild.  Almost drained of energy.  He felt like he’d been caught, like he was suddenly exposed in a way he’d never been before.  And yet… it was scary as hell, but it wasn’t all bad.  Like he was being looked at.  _Seen_.  Not judged and not admired, just _seen_.

"Gladiolus."  The name was imploring, soft and unconcerned; it practically tugged the other man’s gaze toward Ignis’ own.  "I don’t know you as well as I know Noctis.  But I _have_ come to know you: as a man and as your duty.”

The bodyguard shook his head.  “I’m only a Shield.  All I’ve ever been."  He was proud of that.  He’d always been proud of that, always would be… but the fact that he didn’t particularly sound it in the moment didn’t escape him.

"You are a Shield."  The adviser agreed.  "You are a Crownsguard, like the rest of us surrounding Noct.  But you’re also a _human being_.  And you’re allowed to be.”

Gladio swallowed slowly.  He used to make that argument, a very long time ago.  That he was human as much as anything else… but it had more or less been worked or argued out of him.  He _wasn’t_ allowed to be a human being, he wasn’t allowed to _fuck up_.  At least, that’d been instilled within him.  As much a part of him as the tattoo.  As his name.  There were a lot of things that had happened which Ignis seemed to be hinting at, could probably make educated guesses about, and he wanted to talk about none of them.  _Especially_ not then, not when he just wanted to blow off some steam and forget…

“Just like you’re allowed to look and flirt."  Ignis continued, voice still firm but warm in its own way.  "And enjoy more than that, with certain agreements in place.  With communication.  But _this_ … this isn’t you.”

The urge to argue nearly won that time.  He clenched his jaw shut instead of opening it, giving in to the urge to defend himself by using a personal attack.  The things he’d seen and heard, been taught through demonstration and reinforcement time and again as the way to act.  To think and be. And he _knew_ that, had read about it, but it didn’t… it wasn’t such an easy thing to convert from reading about to feeling and doing.  Gladiolus drew in a slow breath instead, trying very hard to simply be in the moment, to take what he knew and the patience of Ignis’ words and make use of it.  “It’s not?"  He asked, making only the quickest of eye contact, not sure he wanted to ask or have it answered in the end.

"No."  The adviser responded with certainty, waited until those brown eyes drifted toward him again.  "We’ve all been exposed to an enormous amount of stress.  Clearly our situation isn’t ideal and we’ve all likely been a bit–  Snippy, of late.”

Something about that was genuinely _amusing_ , the bodyguard crossing his arms and grinning a little even if his stomach felt tight.  Not quite right.  “Sure, sure."  He agreed, seeing his opening to go far beyond merely agreeing but deciding against it.

Ignis snorted quietly, adjusting his glasses again.  "If you just want to ‘get laid’, as it were–”

“Couldn’t hurt."  Gladio added, grin remaining in place.

"No, I don’t suppose it could."  The brunet fought the urge to roll his eyes, smiling mildly himself.  "I ask only that you know that we’re here for you, to take care of you.  Always.  But if you wish something else, negotiation wouldn’t be out of the question–”

It was… well, it was sweet, really.  Maybe that wasn’t the word “traditionally” assigned to that kind of thing, but they obviously weren’t much for some aspects of tradition.  The flirting?  Yeah, he liked it.  A lot, honestly; it was fun to be playful and close, to do a little flattering and be flattered in return, to watch a beautiful woman’s reaction to his words.  Anything more, though, really… well, she’d have to be awfully special.  And he was damn glad Ignis had reminded him of that, of promises made.  Amongst other things.  “You know.  I think I’m just going to walk around a little more and then… make my way back to the hotel room.  That alright?”

Ignis’ posture and expression didn't show much relief, but he felt a good deal of it.  “More than alright.  We’ll wait up.”

“I won’t be _that_ long."  Gladio promised with a smile.  "But, thanks.”

The words were acknowledged with a nod.  “And then you will return with apologies for your behavior while I provide dinner?"  Another line strode across with such fearless overconfidence that Ignis could only smile at the single second of blank stare and blink he received.

Alright, so.  Like he’d read before, even if there was a _reason_ for his behavior, it wasn’t an _excuse_.  Fine.  An apology was probably owed, and he _was_ sorry.  "You run a tight ship there, Iggy.”

“I do try.”

 

* * *

 

Gladiolus’ story wasn’t Ignis’ to tell.  The adviser returned to their shared hotel room and explained in very broad terms what their eldest partner was dealing with and trying to improve upon, and both Noctis and Prompto agreed to do their best to help until a proper conversation could be had.  Clearly that wasn’t always possible, given the nature of the stress they were near constantly under, the nature of all of their personalities–

But they did _try_.  Noctis made an honest attempt at trying to listen and express himself more, while Prompto toned down the jokes about Gladio’s inherent “manliness”.  Ignis spent some time researching ways to help and heal, trying to be subtle about sending tips to Gladio’s phone.

Honestly, the fact they cared so much about _him_ and not his title or position went a long ways, as far as Gladiolus was concerned.


	5. Over-dramatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed fluff. And Ignis just… needed to be taken care of. This was actually going to be something entirely different, but… I can write that later. I hope. Despite indications otherwise, I actually really enjoy slice of life stuff, so… there’s nothing greatly dramatic here. Just a point in time, focused on Ignis. (And quite honestly Ignis’ reaction is based on my housemate.)

Fever.  Chills. Mild trouble concentrating.  All of that, he could have denied to himself easily.  But once the sneezing began, he knew.  He knew and he did not argue with Prompto’s suggestion of a hotel that night.  All that fighting during rain storms…  He knew.  He should have known.  He was probably coming down with something even then, impeding his ability to think and reason.  He’d been a _fool_ not to have seen the signs instantly.  Immediately.  Warned them all.

Ignis allowed Noctis to pay while the adviser trudged into their room, shed his shoes and jacket, and then sprawled across the tiny couch in the corner.  He was unaware of the look shared by the other three.  Not that it mattered.  Not that it would ever matter.

“Here we go."  Gladio commented, not quite under his breath.

"Iggy?"  Prompto questioned, unconcerned.  "What’s wrong?”

“He’s getting sick."  Gladiolus supplied matter-of-factly, putting their bags down before closing the door.

Noctis leaned in to warn the blond to mock-whisper, "He gets a little _dramatic_ about it.

"When morning comes,” Ignis placed a hand over his eyes, ignoring everyone’s comments, “If I’m still… _present_ … just go on.  Go ahead and leave me here.”

“Iggy."  The Shield chided.

"Leave me here to perish."  The sick man insisted.

” _Ignis_.“  Noctis half-groaned, flopping onto the nearest bed and sighing before he gave in, reaching out to take Ignis’ hand as if anything he said were actually true.

"I can feel it."  The adviser continued.  "The cold hands of Death clinging to me…”

The prince frowned at Gladio’s snort.  “Look, I know I have circulation issues, but–”

“Ignis, we’re not leaving you anywhere and you’re not dying.  You’re getting sick and you need sleep."  The bodyguard insisted, looking out the window.  Well, soup was easy enough to get at the store across the street.

"And liquids."  Prompto piped up.  "And spicy things.”

“We want him to get better, we don’t want to kill him."  Noctis responded blandly.

"Totally legit!"  The gunner defended himself, flopping down next to the prince.  "Spicy foods jump-start your immune system.”

“That is correct, Prompto."  Ignis returned to his "normal voice”, if making it a bit apparent that his nose was starting to stuff up.  “So you mustn’t waste them on me, you must keep them for the rest of you.”

Gladio’s eye roll was almost painful.  “You’re not _dying_ , you big baby.  Relax, we’ll take care of you.”

Honestly, mostly it was just an act.  Ignis knew he wasn’t _dying_ , he just didn’t particularly enjoy being unable to do anything.  Having energy and willpower drained from him was an awful feeling; the aches and pains and overall discomforts which came with illness only heightened such annoyances.

“Yeah, Iggy."  Noctis stood, lightly tugging at the brunet’s hand.  "Get cleaned up, we’ll get you to bed and get food and stuff taken care of.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t that they couldn’t handle themselves for a couple of days, because they totally could.  That was what they’d each said to themselves, and each other.  It could totally be done.  Budget was no big deal, right?

And inventory.  And stocking up.  Keeping track of the hunts and monsters in any given area to be sure of what to prioritize when buying supplies.  Keeping track of the food.  Keeping an eye on the Regalia’s gas tank.  Laundry.

Okay, but food.  Food was _easy_.  There was a Crow’s Nest, a mini-mart _and_ someone selling ingredients, right next to the hotel.  No big deal.  No problems.

Gladio and Prompto went out for an easy hunt for a little extra Gil while Noct attempted to plan dinner.  Cool, totally cool.  While he was _tempted_ to just get something for Ignis at the Crow’s Nest, bought ingredients for chicken soup.  How hard could it be?

 

* * *

 

Ignis woke up to the sound of the smoke detector, which Noctis had not quite warped quickly enough to disarm first.  Despite his sleep-muddled brain, which rested directly on top of his already illness-muddled brain, he found the most important question to be right up front.  "What happened?”

“A little fire."  The prince dismissed.

It wasn’t Ebony, but it was enough to wake him up a great deal more.  "A… little.  Fire.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  It’s out now."  Noctis attempted to assure, knowing he was doing a bad job.  "Uh.  Soup?”

It was probably correct to assume that the prince was asking if he wanted some.  However, considering the situation, Ignis decided to be a little more careful about responding.  “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Snorting, Noctis went back to their tiny little kitchen area to retrieve what he referred to as Plan B.  “I did _try_ to make soup."  He assured, retrieving a bowl of what was clearly heated soup from a can.  Diluted appropriately, at least.  "It’s, uh.  Well, it’s in the mini-fridge, maybe you can salvage it when you’re better.”

“Have I been sleeping that long?"  That was surprising; mostly that he’d gotten peaceful sleep for any amount of time while he was getting sick.  The anticipation of feeling terrible was often just as bad as being in the thick of it.

"Just a few hours."  Noctis was sure to be careful about placing the soup on the night stand first, letting the other man arrange himself and the bowl as he wished.

"And the other two?”

“Due back any minute.  Just a little hunting so the budget won’t implode."  The prince explained with a little smirk.

The spoon stopped halfway to Ignis’ mouth, throat already starting to feel parched, aching.  The soup would feel good, no doubt, even if it was massively over-salted, but–  "Budget?”

Noctis attempted to gently wave off the concern.  “I’m not _messing_ with anything, we’re just… trying to take care of the stuff you usually do while you’re sick.  Okay?”

Well, that was…  That… was…  “A kind thought, Noct."  Better to eat the soup and not think about what might have to be corrected to caught up on when he was well enough to do so.

Ignis hadn’t made it through three spoonfuls before Gladio and Prompto were letting themselves back in, looking like they’d been on more than one hunt.  The Shield spoke before anyone else could.  "We’re fine and we have cash and that’s all anyone needs to know.”

The gunner’s cough was a bit longer than expected.  Then he pulled his boots off and simply laid there on the floor, prone and unwilling to move.

“What on Eos happened?"  Ignis wasn’t completely certain that he wanted to ask.  Stress levels did affect healing times, after all.

"Got our mark."  Gladiolus began, sliding his own boots off with a slowness born of muscle aches.  ” _Then_ the pack of sabertusks showed up.“

” _Pack_.“  Prompto scoffed from the floor.  "Like… three packs.  All at the same time.”

The shield pointed at Noctis.  “And before you say anything, we _did_ try to get the hell out of there.  They chased, we fought.  It was a mess."  Wiping his hands off on his pants (not that it did a lot of good, but they’d more or less cleaned up in a creek before trekking back), Gladio’s voice shifted just a little.  Became more serious.  "But the one thing that kept us going… was knowing that we had to come back and see you off.”

Noctis almost choked on a sound that was somewhere between laughter and offense, though Prompto placed tired hands against his mouth and held back a laugh.  Ignis, for his part, stared.

That was all the spurring on that the bodyguard needed to continue, moving closer, dramatically extending his arm.  “We could not let you perish without us all being at your side, else what lovers would we make?”

Ignis remained carefully neutral, even if the spark of amusement wasn’t _quite_ buried in his eyes.  Somewhere.  “Oh go stuff your bodice ripper ridiculousness."  He managed flatly even if his voice had begin to take on a bit of roughness.

Gladio laughed, moving back over to Prompto and trying to (mostly gently) roll the blond over with his foot.  When that didn’t work, he excused himself with, "Alright, I’m showering.”

Prompto mumbled something that didn’t sound like actual words, taking a full minute before he bothered rolling over.  “Y'want some spice in your soup, Iggy?”

Swallowing another spoonful, the adviser took a moment to gaze into the bright yellow broth.  “Actually, I think that’d be lovely.  Yes, please."  It was something to cut all the salt, anyway.  And an immune boost couldn’t hurt.

Not that the gunner was in any rush to stand, but Noctis helped him out.  More or less.  The prince even suggested, "Want something for when the aching starts, too?”

He did not _appreciate_ drugs.  Even the simple, every day variety.  But Ignis also knew the usual route colds or flus took, and it was best to take precaution from the start if he hoped to recover quickly.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  “That would be lovely as well, yes.”

“Then maybe go get a cockatrice because soup made from them is supposed to heal just about everything?"  Noctis asked entirely too casually.

Which Ignis did not entirely catch.  "I don’t think you ought to be making any more soup, Noct.”

Prompto had caught on, though, bringing over a few red pepper flakes to sprinkle into the soup.  “Then we might as well go get a behemoth so we can grind down its horns to make some of that vitality powder.  Sell some, keep some, you know.”

 _That_ clued the adviser in, going over what Noct had said previously.  Things were still the slightest bit muddled, but even so, “I forbid any of you to go any further than across the street until I can physically keep you out of trouble.”

Ah well, it had been fun for a moment there.  The prince snickered, bringing over one of those generic pain killer and fever reducer tablets.  "Joking, really.”

“About which part?"  Ignis ventured between spoonfuls, quietly thanking Prompto for his contribution.

"All of it."  Noctis assured.  "We’ll manage.  Now finish your soup and get more rest.”

 

* * *

 

Ultimately, the three days it took to get fully sick and then gradually better was not particularly enjoyed in a great many ways.  But the warmth of getting to lean or lay against Gladio combined with Prompto’s willingness to massage whatever ached and Noctis getting him whatever he wanted or needed while simply resting and enjoying the company was very enjoyable indeed.

Particularly as it left him more time to level up in King’s Knight.


	6. Winners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I’m sorry it’s so short but this idea hasn’t left me alone all day so I had to write it down. ___

They’d most certainly _earned_ an evening and night off, plus a full day to sleep in or do whatever they wanted.  Which was probably going to be sleeping in, but their options were open.

Three hunts in one day, all successful.  One very gross but apparently rare bone sold for much more Gil than they’d expected, and only then did their group feel fully triumphant.  They’d gotten food and a little bit of alcohol, deciding to forgo King’s Knight for a while and simply sit around the table in their hotel room playing cards.  With a twist, of course; they were relaxing and taking the evening to themselves, after all.

“Explain to me how there’s a loser in strip poker.”  Ignis requested of his liege, amusement not entirely hidden in his expression as he shuffled the cards.

“Matter of perspective.”  Noctis didn’t quite argue, _just_ tilting away from the side of perfect sobriety.

Prompto at least managed not to show he’d had more than a couple of sips, though he did look a great deal more relaxed than he had in days.  "Mostly just so you get to label someone the loser before aggressively making out.“

"Amongst other things.”  The prince agreed with a nod.

Dealing out the cards, Ignis then raised his voice to be heard in the bathroom, “Now if only our fourth player would find his way to the table so we can begin.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Came rumbling from within the bathroom, followed by the sound of water running before Gladiolus finally exited.  "Taking a moment to trim for your benefit and this is what I get.“

Three pairs of eyes followed Gladio to his chair, where he stood for a long moment, stretching his hands over his head before finally sitting down.  Prompto was the one who spoke up.  "Pants?”  Then he leaned closer and squinted.  "Just pants, big guy?  You looking to lose?“

The bodyguard shrugged, reaching for his drink with a grin.  "I figure this way, everyone wins.”

The round of groans was expected, as was Noctis throwing his cards at the half-dressed bodyguard.

Which was not to say that they did not play strip poker.  It simply went five rounds before Gladio was naked and the rest were increasingly distracted.  None of them were about to tell the Shield that he’d been right, anyway.   Ultimately, Ignis was declared the winner even after arguing about Noctis as to whether he was “cheating with clothes” or simply good at the game itself, and declared himself in charge of “events” for the night.

They did indeed all win.

And slept in.


	7. Findings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE. Post-FFXV, maybe a couple of years after. Is this completely self-indulgent? Absolutely. Is this about a certain AU three people have heard me ramble about in excess? Hell yes. I have absolutely nothing to do with these damn ideas, so now everyone gets to suffer through this snippet which explains very little about anything except the fact that you have an oldschool FFVII fan who fell into lust with FFXV and this was probably bound to happen eventually. (Is there more to this idea? …Unfortunately yes but it probably won’t escape the confines of my cruel imagination. This is, by the way, referred to as the Crownsguard God Killers Verse.)

They sat around the table, just the three of them, in absolute silence for what was quite possibly minutes.  Not calm, not comfortable, though no one quite wanted to interrupt.

At least not until Gladio had enough, sitting back and crossing his arms.  “Alright, Iggy.  What’d you find out?”

As if not expecting to be asked, Ignis drew a deep breath and sat a little straighter.  “The tomes we found under the floor of the Steyliff Grove structure do appear to be rather ancient.  And well-preserved, as far as being able to make out text.”

"So you found someone else to look them over?"  Prompto carefully cut to the chase.

Sighing deeply, Ignis’ shoulders fell a bit.  "Yes.  There was only so much that could be done between Talcott, Monica and myself.  The latter was needed elsewhere, and Talcott learns quickly, but this language is too dense when it comes to nuance.  Cid introduced me to a former professor of language studies from Tenebrae and we spent the last week attempting to glean anything specific.”

“Iggy, I love you, but you gotta…"  Prompto pleaded.  It felt like he’d been waiting a lifetime to find out whether or not the initial readings of those texts were anything near what the former adviser thought they were.

The brunet nodded once.  "As I said, the language is dense.  Direct translation may well prove impossible, but Elena is looking.  In the meantime… it would appear that the Six are indeed not claimed as deities, but rather specifically "travelers from a far-away sky’.”

Gladiolus dropped his face into his hands, audibly breathing deeply before speaking through his fingers.  Though muffled, his voice carried just fine.  “You are telling me the Six are _aliens_.”

“I’m telling you what the combined effort of Talcott, a language professor and myself were able to get from ancient text.  I am also telling you this may be connected to the matter of meteors, but that’s neither here nor there currently.”

The former Shield looked _pained_ when he raised his head, sure that Ignis was aware of his stare.  “Okay, sure.  Our Gods are aliens–”

“Are _you_ telling _me_ that humans could tell the difference between sufficiently powerful life forms from across galaxies, and Gods?"  The brunet challenged.

Despite the incredibly _strong_ urge to argue, Gladio grunted.  "Fine, fine.  Go on with whatever else these books told you.”

Clearing his throat as politely as possible, Ignis’ unseeing gaze turned ever so slightly toward the silent blond.  “Between the words and the sense anyone was able to make of the bizarre illustrations–which you both _will_ see after we’ve set aside proper space for study, I assure you–it seems the initial premise that I shared with Prompto in one of my… less than perfect emotional moments may have been correct.”

Prompto didn’t respond or outwardly react.  He couldn’t really help but remember when Ignis had called him late at night, quite upset.  After probably _days_ without sleep, running on coffee, coming across a passage read to him three times before he’d excused himself from the room.  The blond had heard from Talcott later that Iggy’d looked panicked, hadn’t quite known where to go and had to frustratingly feel his way along the walls to find a private spot for a little while before the call was made.  It was bad.  The information was worse; and why Prompto hadn’t hesitated in accepting the invitation to meet up.

“Specifics, Ignis."  Gladio prodded softly.

The former adviser hadn’t expected his own shaky breath, taking a moment to ground himself before explaining, bluntly, "Noctis is not the first Chosen.  And Ardyn is not the first Accursed.  This would appear to be a cycle which has happened many times before, sometimes on different _spheres_ –or planets–and seems likely to continue.”

Silence.  A longer silence than any really expected, Prompto surprised when his own voice croaked, “ _Why_?”

Another few seconds passed without words.  Ignis felt his throat tighten, breath hitching.  _That_ … that was new information gleaned with Elena’s help.  “It would appear to be… Bahamut’s sustenance.”

“ _What_?"  The word was out of Gladio’s mouth before he’d quite absorbed the information presented.

"The magic.  The natural magic enhanced by the power of kings."  It was that moment when Ignis’ voice finally truly began to shiver and risk breaking, trying to carry on with simply delivering information.  As he’d always done.  Reserved, professional, unfeeling.  Or so he attempted.  "If the text is correct, if Elena was reading it correctly, then…  Accuseds are a direct result of Bahamut’s hand.  As are the Chosens, at the peak of their line’s of power.  Even the Lucii are not unique; they make up part of that very energy that Bahamut devours to survive.”

Prompto felt sick.  More sick than he had before, anyway.  “S-so… who else knew about..?"  Ugh, he couldn’t even finish the question.

The brunet shook his head.  "I don’t believe _anyone_ was aware of this information.  Least of all the royal family.”

“Guess no one can be sure, considering."  There was a distinct note of _bitterness_ in Gladiolus’ voice, though he didn’t press at any point in particular.  "And the crystal?”

Ignis shook his head slightly once more.  “I’ve no idea what part the crystal plays in this, though it’s clear there is some reason for its existence.  There’s a great deal of text requiring translation, and I wasn’t–  I’ve not been informed of everything as of yet.”

Prompto swallowed thickly.  Twice.  “Then let’s just get this out there: what does it mean for Noct?”

“I’ve no idea of that, either."  Clearly, Ignis didn’t like not knowing something in the first place.  But having no idea what all of the information _meant_ , any of the practical aspects or indeed the… the _spiritual_ ones…  "We may never know any more than this.  Or it may all be speculation to begin with."  He attempted to ignore the fact that the idea bothered him as much as he knew it bothered the rest of them.

"So there’s no way of knowing for sure."  Gladio surmised, leaning back in the chair with a loud squeak.  "And it’s not like we seem able to contact any of the Six ourselves to ask directly.”

“They haven’t heeded any of our calls, or so much as acknowledged that they still exist.  Not even after Prompto…”

“Yeah…  Yeah."  It hadn’t been the gunner’s finest hour by far, greeting the first light of dawn by breaking down.  Screaming, cursing the Gods and their uselessness, their callousness.  The whole of Insomnia had no doubt echoed with his rage and then his sadness.

How dare they.  How dare _Bahamut_.  And allowing themselves to be praised and worshiped as _Gods_ on top of everything.  Prompto jumped slightly as he felt Gladio’s hand on top of his own balled fist, not having realized that he’d been so obviously tense.  Angry.  Not quite as angry as he was seeing the sunrise without Noctis, but…

"Ideally."  Ignis’ voice was carefully even.  "What should we do with this information?”

“Stop him."  Prompto didn’t hesitate, didn’t even need to think the response over.  "We stop Bahamut from doing this to anyone ever again.”

Gladiolus didn’t remove his hand when he felt the blond’s relax a bit underneath his own.  “Seems a little out of our hands considering…  What’s happened.” _  
_

The gunner shook his head with absolute certainty.  “We have to _try_.  What, you just want to let someone else deal with this?  Bury it, forget about it?  Let it happen again?"  He was aware that he was getting louder, that his voice was careening close to being vicious and accusatory–

Ignis, as he was usually so very good at, managed to divert that energy.  "You both have points.  Though I must admit… ridiculous optimism or not, I think Prompto’s right.  We have to try _something_.”

“It took all of us to get rid of Ifrit, and he’d already been weakened."  Gladio pointed out, not _arguing_.  It had simply always been his business to know what they were going up against, to weigh the possibility of success.

"Yeah."  Prompto agreed, that sour mix of helplessness and barely clung-to hope only further causing his stomach to tighten.  "But we _did_ it.  And we’ll kill Bahamut, too.”

Blasphemy.  Ignis felt the corners of his lips twitch upward in spite of himself.  It wasn’t just Noctis who’d been suicidally optimistic, apparently; they all held some of that.  It wasn’t with any heat that he asked, “And how do you propose we kill a God, Prompto?”

“They’re not Gods."  The response was sharp and bitter and angry, but held back.  Carefully.  Then Prompto swallowed it down with the bile and reached across the table, placing his free hand over one of Ignis’.  "And I… have no idea.”

It was a ridiculous thing, wanting to seek out Gladio’s hand as well; but the shadow of a smile crossed over the whole of the brunet’s face when he found that Gladiolus had already been reaching for him, meeting somewhere in the middle.  It wasn’t _right_ without their fourth.  But Noct would hardly want them mourning.  "More research is needed.  The text must be pored over again, looking for details.  Can you give me that time, Prompto?  Can you both promise me, us, that you will try to be patient until we’ve gotten more information?“

Prompto sighed, but he wasn’t lying when he gave a simple, "Sure, Ig.”

“Yeah."  Gladio agreed.  "Besides… gonna need that time to figure out how to explain myself.”

“Indeed."  Ignis agreed, squeezing their hands.

“We gotta do right by Noct.  Whatever it takes.”  And if they kept that in mind, Prompto was sure that they’d give a damn good fight if nothing else.

Though he did hope beyond hope that there was more than simply a good fight left in them.


End file.
